


Licorice

by Drafter



Series: HxH Whump Stories [10]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Ignoring an Injury, Mild Blood, Smut, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drafter/pseuds/Drafter
Summary: A mission way too easy, the table as their bed and the corpses as their witness. Blood, it turned out, was their favourite spice.
Relationships: Hisoka/Machi (Hunter X Hunter)
Series: HxH Whump Stories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966612
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Licorice

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober prompt #30: Ignoring an injury
> 
> This prompt screamed 'hisomachi' to me, and I decided to give a kink twist to it ;)

Her lines fluttered through the air, speed as fast as his cards. Machi lassoed a few necks, Hisoka slit some others. Soon all twelve executives were dead, most still around the oval conference table. They barely had time to escape when the pair of assassins stormed into the boardroom.

Now the room smelled like death and expensive cologne. The caramel-coloured carpet slowly soaked the pool of blood that formed beneath the leather chairs, while drops spatted all over the mahogany tabletop and the creme walls, sliding their way down. It was one hell of a scene. Whoever comes in first the next morning would not be pleased with the mess they had created. But that was not the Phantom Troupe's concern. All Chrollo wanted was to settle matters with those executives and send a message, the Spider's way.

The businessmen were having a secretive meeting that night, probably plotting against the Troupe as well. Machi volunteered for the murder mission, Hisoka followed. Nobody objected. As much as the other Troupe members didn't like Hisoka, his efficiency was well-known. And when paired with Machi, he worked even better: the whole feat, from finding the building to killing all dozen men, didn't take more than twenty minutes.

"I think we set ourselves a new record," Hisoka said.

Machi ignored, as she ignored all of his chitchats. Her eyes, however, screamed obscenities.

Every time Hisoka thought he had Machi figured out, she'd surprised him. There were days when she would be as cold as frozen ice cream, purposefully avoiding him, teasing him with threats, dispensing looks as sharp as daggers; on others, she would melt in his arms, scorching like molten chocolate, burning his skin. Hisoka liked her both ways. And tonight, she was boiling hot.

One look and they were kissing, his tongue so famished he could eat her up. She was delicious, candy-like. He could never agree on which candy, though. Not a bubble gun, the ones you chew and then get bored of it. No, Machi was something else. She had a flavour he could not exactly decipher, not because he hadn't tasted it — he had, plenty — but because it had far too many layers and he could never really reach the bottom. A candy that was not meant for everyone to enjoy — not everyone could remove all the wrappers she came with.

Her belly touched the table's surface at the same time Hisoka got on his knees. Shorts were gone in a flash. Machi was now down on the table, legs down to the floor, Hisoka devouring her from behind. He played with his full arsenal of fingers and tongue, licking the sweet poison that came from her body, rubbing her on all the right places. Her flavours burst inside his mouth.

Then a loud gasp. A sharp inhale.

Hisoka halted. He rose his head above the table just in time to catch one of the men they deemed dead still alive. The man was in shock, probably as surprised as they were to see him with open eyes. In what Hisoka considered a foolish act of despair, the businessman had grabbed a letter opener and impaled Machi's left hand, hence her gasp. The sharp blade of the paper-knife went all the way to the tabletop, and now a fresh stream of blood was gushing from under her fingerless glove and tinting the surface.

Machi didn't even bother removing that. Or getting up. Still laying down on her chest, hand still nailed on the table, she transformed her nen into fine threads and threw them around the executive's neck. The man brought both his hands to his throat, but her grip was tighter this time. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

All Hisoka did was watch. He was always amazed by her skills, and now, with the blood flowing from her hand, their prey choking right beside them, Hisoka got harder than he already was. Before the man completely suffocated to death, Hisoka removed his pants and entered Machi, as strong as he could. Machi released a moan but remained still, both hands occupied, a dying man as their audience.

To make things interesting, he leaned down and pressed the letter opener, letting the blade dive even further into her skin. More blood surfaced from the wound, and her noises became even louder. She howled with ferocity, from pain and pleasure. All he could hear was the choking sounds, the hard knock on the table every time he thrust, the lust spreading all over each vowel that came from her throat.

His hand, now tainted red, reached her head. Hisoka squeezed her neck and pressed her cheeks and licked the trail of her own blood he left on her face.

She was licorice. Black licorice, so salty, bitter and off-putting, so sweet, warm and addictive. A profound confusion of flavours; so overwhelming, yet so distinct.

Machi was the candy he hated to love. But a candy he would keep on eating.

Until  
the  
last  
bite.


End file.
